Goodbye day

Today was a Goodbye day. I remembered it as soon as the alarm went off at 7:30. Even though my grandmother was only here for two days, I knew the house would feel empty when I got home from passing her off to my cousins for the second part of her trip this afternoon, especially with Eric out of town. I shuffled around in a sleepy daze, putting yogurts into lunch boxes, issuing orders to put on socks and glasses. Goodbye followed me around like a shadow.

Grandmom came in my room while I made the bed and tried to decide what to do for the morning. She said she didn't care- we could go the quilting morning at the church, to the library, take the tour of historic Stagville, whatever I wanted. I said I would call Lindsay to see what she was doing and she said, "Lindsay is just the dearest person in the world." My throat closed up and I thought, yes- that's exactly what she is.

In the end we stayed home and Grandmom drew me a family tree and told me stories of my ancestors while Marley emptied my bathroom drawers. Then we took Marley to Lindsay's and went to the museum for lunch. I saw an old professor and stopped to talk. He said he remembered me, which I doubt. While we waited for our food we called Eric in Atlanta but he didn't answer. Then we called my brother in California and left him a message telling him he ought to be awake by now. I thought I saw Goodbye out of the corner of my eye, but I looked away and took another bite of my sandwich.

After lunch we wandered through an exhibit of contemporary Chinese art. Grandmom obsessed about a giant painting of men in what looked like baggy speedos and I contemplated how fuzzy the Art History corner of my brain has gotten. I checked my phone and found it was time to get Marley and pick the boys up from school.

We drove to Chapel Hill and met my cousin at Trader Joe's. I wandered around and let the boys put cartons of chocolate soy milk and Gorilla crunch in the cart. I bought two hiacynths. We hugged goodbye at the car and I drove home thinking about the purple hyacinths my mom planted when we lived in our old house in Durham. I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Goodbye in the way back. Eric called back to say his job interview went well. It seemed like a formality. They might make him an offer next week. I took a breath and tried to be excited for him, because he sounded excited- and happy. But it was hard, and I was glad when I had to tell Brigham to stop trying to kill his brother with his homework folder.

At home we ate frozen pizza from Trader Joe's. I fed Marley her bottle and did Mad Libs with the boys. When asked for a body part, I said "nipple" and they laughed so hard I thought they would pass out. I almost forgot about Goodbye, until I was standing at the sink scrubbing a cookie sheet. I thought of climbing the magnolia tree in my front yard when I was eight. Carrying boxes into my dorm on East campus. Kissing Eric on the quad with books spread out around us in the grass. Bringing my first baby home to our apartment on Central campus. Birthday parties for Brigham at the gazebo. Driving out I-40 to the beach. Friends that will be a part of me forever.

How do I say goodbye to all of that?